


Christmas Dinner at the Granger-Weasley's

by key_equals_lock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Dinner, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Minor Millicent Bulstrode/Ginny Weasley, Supportive Ron Weasley, hermione is a terrible cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/key_equals_lock/pseuds/key_equals_lock
Summary: Hermione was 31 when she decided that she wanted to host Christmas dinner. Ron thought it was a terrible idea, and he told her so. She gave him alook, and he had shut his mouth. He knew that when Hermione had decided on something, it was useless to try and change her mind.





	Christmas Dinner at the Granger-Weasley's

Hermione was 31 when she decided that she wanted to host Christmas dinner. Ron thought it was a terrible idea, and he told her so. She had given him a _look_ , and he had shut his mouth. He knew that when Hermione had decided on something, it was useless to try and change her mind.

Hermione was a terrible cook, and Ron told her so. She would stare at him with narrow eyes, but in the end, she would sigh in resignation. They both knew he was right. Ron was no a master chef himself, but it was usually he who made family dinners and cooked when they had guests over. Why she had decided that she wanted to make Christmas Dinner all of the sudden, he had no idea.

They had gone shopping the week before, part of Hermione's thorough planning. Hermione had gotten a recipe on turkey from her mother. The Granger-Weasley family celebrated Christmas with Hermione's family the year before, and his mother-in-law had made a very wonderful Christmas turkey. Maybe that was what had giver her the idea.

Ron had of course offered to help with the dinner, as had his mother. Hermione snapped at him the second time he asked, so he had decided to leave her to it.

It was eleven thirty, and Hermione had locked herself in the kitchen. Ron sat in the living room with Hugo and Rose. They had a Muggle board game in front of them, a birthday gift from Hermione's parents for Hugo. He had just turned two. All the grandparents had visited, along with Ginny and George and his children. Hugo was more interested in the two big dice than the game itself, but Rose _loved_ it.

It had been fairly quiet during the past hour, with the exception of the kids. Ron had expected to hear lots of noises from the kitchen, be it rustling pans or the sound of Hermione messing up. It was well past noon when finally heard a shriek from the kitchen. He leapt to his feet, wand in hand, and tore the door open. “Hermione, are you alright?” he asked, eyes darting around the room, searching for the cause of her outburst. Hermione looked miserable, but unhurt.

“I forgot to turn the oven on,” she said, looking like the world was going under. Ron let out a relieved sigh.

“Ron, this is serious,” she said, waving the spatula in her hand around.

“Can't you use a charm to heat it?”

“You know I don't know how,” Hermione said, her voice raising. She had never bothered to learn cooking charms. Cooking had never been an area of interest to her.

Ron felt a tug on his sleeve. “It's your turn,” Rose told him.

“I'll be right there,” Ron said and ruffled her hair. When he looked back at Hermione, she had calmed down considerably.

“It's okay,” she muttered. “I'll turn it on now. It'll only take a quarter. It's fine.”

“Are you sure you don't want any help?” Ron asked, immediately regretting it. Hermione looked like she was ready to throw the spatula at him. He took a step backward and closed the kitchen door behind him.

He turned to his children who were waiting for him by the living room table. “Now then, where were we?” he asked, and Rose eagerly held out a handful of dices.

  


  


Ron's parents were the first ones to arrive.

“Were are my wonderful grandchildren?” Molly said, and Rose threw herself at her. Hugo reached out to them from where he was sitting on Ron's arm. Molly gave Rose a big hug, before picking Hugo out of his arms.

Arthur gave Ron a one-arm hug. “How's Hermione?” he whispered in his ear. Ron shook his head, and Arthur chuckled. When his mother was done doting over her grandkids, she asked loudly, “Is everything alright in the kitchen?” She was already making her way to the kitchen, but Ron stopped her.

“It's better if you leave her to it,” Ron said quietly. “'Mione doesn't want us in there.”

Molly took a reluctant step backwards, but her eyes didn't leave the kitchen door. “If you're sure. If she needs any help, I be happy to…” she begun ( _too loud, too loud_ ), but trailed off when Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. Ron sent his father a grateful look.

Was that burnt onion he was smelling?

  


  


Charlie arrived next. Ron grinned and dragged him into a hug. “Good to see you again,” he muttered.

“Merry Christmas,” Charlie grinned back as they let go. The coat stand bowed down and took his jacked, and they made their way to the living room. Ron noticed that his hair was long enough to tie up now, much to their mother's undoubtedly dismay.

“Charlie, sweetheart, I'm so glad you could make it!” Molly exclaimed. She dragged him down into a hug.

“Me too,” Charlie said.

When everyone had gotten hugs, and the kids had gotten their share of attention, Charlie asked, “Where's Hermione?”

“In the kitchen,” Ron said with a grimace.

“Really?” Charlie said, eyebrows raised. “I thought…” His eyes flickered to their mother.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Apropos, I should probably go and check on her.”

When he entered the kitchen, the smell of burnt… _something_ hit him like a spatula. “What _is_ that smell?” he asked, covering his nose with his arm.

“Ron!” Hermione said and spun around. “You're not supposed to be here!”

“I wish I wasn't,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose. Hermione had resumed her previous task of scraping whatever she'd burnt into the bin.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” she said dismissively. “I just forgot the potatoes.” She but the pan in the sink, where the dish brush began to wash it. She picked up a knife, and Ron couldn't help but worry. He knew she was an adult who was perfectly capable of handling a knife, but they'd had one too many baking disasters for him _not_ to worry.

“Mum, Dad and Charlie are here,” he said.

“Oh!” Hermione said. “Could you tell them that the dinner will be an hour late or so?” She cast a quick glance at the clock. “It'll be ready around five.”

“I'll do that,” he said, and closed the door behind him once more.

  


  


It was almost half past four when Ginny arrived. She had Millie Bulstrode in tow, her girlfriend of two years. Millie was looking nervously between Ron and Ginny. They had of course met many times before, and his sister often brought her along when she came to visit. He supposed it was different when it was the entire family, parents and all. Ron remembered when he first celebrated the holiday at the Granger household. It was… Well, let's not dwell on that.

“Happy holiday!” Ginny said with a grin.

“Come on in,” he said and gave her a hug as they entered.

Millie looked torn for a moment, but in the end she leaned in for a hug as well, and mumbled, “Merry Christmas,” in his ear.

“I hear Hermione's making dinner this year,” Ginny said as she took off her coat. Under, she wore purple dress robes with silver linings. Millie wore a simple black robe, with a white shirt underneath.

“You look lovely,” Ron commented.

“Unlike others,” Ginny snorted. Ron looked down at himself, and realised that he was still wearing jeans.

“Bollocks,” he said, and Ginny laughed. Even Millie let out an amused snort. He gestured for them to follow him inside, before disappearing upstairs to change.

  


  


When he came back down, dressed in robes Hermione and he bought the month before, George and his family had joined the lot by the living room table. Roxanne and Fred had joined Rose in the corner, heads deep into the toy box, while Hugo was still sitting on Molly's lap.

“Merry Christmas, Ron!” George exclaimed, and dragged him into a hug. He patted his back so hard that Ron got a cough fit.

“George,” Angelina said, glaring at her husband. George grinned unapologetic.

“That's everyone then?” Molly asked, looking around the room.

Ron cleared his throat, and George sniggered. “Sometimes, you're more of a child than your children,” Angelina muttered under her breath. Ron ignored them.

“Harry's coming too,” he said.

“Not Bill and Fleur?” Ginny asked.

“They're celebrating in France with Fleur's family this year,” Molly said.

“Of course,” Ginny nodded. “And Percy's celebrating with with his family this year,” she added, mostly to herself.

Molly turned to Ron. “How's Hermione doing?” she asked.

Ron grimaced, earning a few chuckles from the crowd. Hermione excelled at a lot of things, but it was well know that cooking was not one of them, and family and friends had learnt that the hard way. Molly frowned. “I'll check on her,” Ron sighed. “Ginny, you mind setting up the table? You might have to transfigure some some of the furniture. I don't think we have enough chairs.”

“Sure,” she said, and she and Millie got up. Ron left them too it, and joined his wife in the kitchen.

“How's everything going?” he asked carefully as he shut the door behind him.

“I'm doing perfectly fine, thank you very much,” Hermione snapped, but she seemed to regret it the moment the words left her lips. She slumped down. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you,” she sighed.

Ron joined her by the sink, where she was pouring out a presumably failed attempt at making sauce.

“Are you sure you don't want me to help you?” he said carefully.

Hermione looked like she was going to snap at him again, but decided against it. “Could you please set the table? I'll make the sauce again. The turkey is almost fini—” She cut herself off and whirled around, and the saucepan landed in the sink with a load _clang!_

“What is it?” Ron asked bewildered.

“ _The turkey,_ ” she hissed. “I forgot to take of the foil!”

She ripped open the oven, and hissed again when the hot air hit her in the face. She whipped out her wand, and the foil floated out with a nonverbal levitation charm _._ She shut the oven's door with a loud _smack!_ She looked like she was on the verge of crying.

“Hey, hey,” Ron said and grabbed her hand. “It's okay.” Hermione began to turn away, but froze halfway. She wavered for a moment, before leaning into Ron's embrace. “Don't worry,” he said. Hermione didn't make a sound, but he felt her sob against his chest.

“I don't know what I'm doing,” she said, her voice muffled my the fabric of his robes.

Ron smiled fondly. “I know.” Hermione laughed miserably. “But it's alright. You're doing great.”

“I don't know about that,” she said bitterly. Ron hugged her tight and muttered reassuring words in her ear until she relaxed against his chest.

“I love you,” he said after a while, because he did, very much so. “Now, let's make that sauce, yeah?” he added with a soft smile. He loosened his embrace and looked down at her. He wiped her tears away and kissed her nose. She tilted her head up so their lips met.

“Yeah, let's makes that sauce,” she said with new conviction, when they finally broke apart.

  


  


The family had moved from the living room to the dining room by the time Ron and Hermione exited the kitchen. The dining room and the living room was in fact the same room, with the dining table in the one end and the sofa in the other. The living room was one sofa short, so Ron figured Ginny had had to transfigure it into a couple of chairs for the time being. He thought he recognised the sofa pattern on three of the chairs.

“Dinners ready,” Hermione sang, oozing with content. A cheer erupted from the table, which quickly dissolved into laughter. Hermione was beaming, and Ron grinned.

“Would you get the plates, dear?” she asked him. “I need to change.”

“Sure,” Ron said, and kissed her cheek before she disappeared upstairs. He quickly counted the people present. He frowned, realising that there were still two chairs unaccounted for. He scanned the table again.

“Where's Harry?” he asked. He found Ginny in the crowd and added, “And isn't there one chair too much?”

“No,” Ginny said with a frown. “Harry's bringing his boyfriend, remember? He was held up at work, but they should be on their way now.”

“Boyfriend?” he said, dumbfounded.

Ginny watched him with exasperation. “You can't possibly mean don't know? Hermione should have told you at least!”

“Well, she did not,” Ron said. “Who is it then?”

Ginny stared. “You don't—?” She looked around. “He doesn't know?”

Millie shrugged, and Ginny's expression slowly went from confused to grinning. “Well, that's actually hilarious," she said.

“Why is this so funny? Is it someone I know?” Ron asked, and this time, Ginny actually started _laughing_ , the little shit. Even worse, others around the table were joining her, making him feel like a total idiot. “Would someone please tell me who it is,” he said, and put his arms to his sides, which made them laugh even more. _I got to stop doing that_ , he thought to himself and let his arms drop, cursing Hermione for making him pick up her habits.

There was no time for anyone to answer him, because a moment later, the door bell rung. Ron went to open, and Ginny and George followed close behind, muttering something about not wanting to miss this. Ron was terribly curious. He had absolutely no idea who the mystery man could be, and couldn't understand why it was so funny. Last time he checked, Harry was not seeing anyone, so this was all very unexpected.

Ron opened the front door, and nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met him. Harry was smiling nervously, and to his left was—Ron gaped. He didn't even register his siblings laughing behind him. To Harry's left was Draco sodding _Malfoy,_ with his impossibly blond hair and trademark smirk fixed in place.

“Merry Christmas, Harry, Draco!” Ginny called from behind him and pushed him aside to give Harry a hug. George shook both of their hands with a “Merry Christmas, you two.”

“ _You're_ Harry's boyfriend?” Ron blurted when he had finally collected himself.

“No, I'm here to sing Christmas carols,” Malfoy sneered. “What do you think, Weasel?”

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry whispered furiously in Malfoy's ear. “ _Behave_.”

To Ron's surprise, Malfoy changed his demeanour. He held out his hand. “My apologies. Merry Christmas, Weasley. Thank you for the invite.”

“We didn't invite _you_ ,” Ron sputtered, and regretted it immediately. Malfoy didn't waver, but Harry visibly slumped.

“Ronald Granger-Weasley!” Hermione shouted from behind him. She rushed past him. “I'm so sorry about him. Please, come in—you're both of course very welcome here.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry said. He avoided Ron's dumbstruck gaze as he stepped inside. Malfoy followed close behind him, if rather stiffly, but other than that, he didn't seem faced by their encounter.

“Bollocks,” Ron muttered to himself. “Look, I'm sorry, Malfoy,” he said out loud. “I didn’t mean to—Of course you can come in. It wasn't fair of me—I'm really sorry.” And he meant it. He knew Malfoy wasn't the same insufferably prat he was at school. He'd changed after the war—they all had—and he and Harry had been friends for quite some time now. If Malfoy was important to Harry, Merlin knows why, then Ron would of course support him.

“It's quite alright, Weasley, no need to strain yourself,” Malfoy said, head held high. Ron didn't miss the look in his eye, though, that said _I'm used to it._ Ron felt horribly guilty, and kept his gaze low.

The couple entered the living/dining room, and was greeted with hugs, handshakes and “Merry Christmas!”s. Hermione had opened the kitchen door, and the food was floating out of the kitchen. Ron went to pick up Hugo and carried him over to the baby chair next to his own. Rose jumped up on the chair on the other side of Hermione.

The tense atmosphere disappeared after a while, and was replaces by the loud noises from cutlery clinging, people eating, and chatting. Ron relaxed, and join the chatter, while trying to get Hugo to eat his food. To be honest, Ron didn't blame him for spiting it out again.

The turkey was dry, and there was something about the salad that wasn't quite right. When they was finished eating, there was almost half a turkey left, despite there being nine adults and four children around the table. Hermione frowned at that, and insisted they eat more. _No need to be modest, there's lots of food still left!_

Thankfully, his mother (bless her) had brought dessert. A cheer erupted around the table. Ron touched Hermione's back and smiled apologetically at her. “You're food was amazing, sweetheart,” he mumbled in her ear, and Hermione sighed.

“Thank you, dear, but you don't need to pretend. We both know that turkey tasted like cardboard.” Ron laughed at that, and even Hermione let out a small giggle.

  


  


They all moved back to the living room, and Ginny transfigured the furniture back to it's original state. The sofa didn't seem to have taken any damaged by being chairs for a couple of hours. She had a talent for the art, unlike himself, so he left the job to her. Instead, he began cleaning up the dining table, and Hermione brought out the dessert plates.

When they were all seated, Molly opened the big strawberry cake, while Harry happily helped himself to the jam tarts. The kids had moved to the dining table, where Hermione had laid out some paper and colourful pencils.

“So, Harry, how did you and Malfoy—I mean Draco—how did you get together?” Ron asked after finishing his first piece of cake. Harry seemed to hesitate, and Ron could feel the guilt bubbling up again. He didn't want Harry to feel that he couldn't talk to him about this stuff.

Ron told himself that he was simply just caught off guard earlier, and that he did not really think that Mal—Draco wasn't welcome at their house. He hadn't seen Draco in years, and suddenly, he was right there, on his doorstep. Harry had of course told him that he and Draco had gotten closer since they started working together, but Ron had not expected them to have gotten _that_ close.

“Well, you know we started working together when I was transferred this summer,” Harry begun eventually. “Then Draco invited me to dinner...”

He turned to Malfoy for help, but Malfoy was smirking, which made Harry blush. His head snapped back and he continued, "And we just hit it off, I suppose."

Harry didn't seem to know exactly how to explain how they ended up together. Ron didn’t blame him. If someone had told him this morning that he would be having Christmas dinner with _Malfoy,_ of all people, he would have laughed in their face.

He wished someone would have told him, though. Hermione had know. She and Harry had been out drinking coffee together earlier that same week, and she had invited Draco to come along for Christmas dinner. Ron hadn't had opportunity join them because of work, and when he got home the next day, Hermione forgot to tell him, caught up in the Christmas stress.

“Well, I'm happy for you,” Ron said awkwardly.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said. He grabbed Draco's hand.

There was an awkward silence. No family gathering without, right?

Hermione cleared her throat. “Anyone wants more coffee?” she asked. There was a murmur of _yes, please_ and _that would be lovely_.

There was a shift in the conversation, and they were talking about everything from the pros and cons of parchment, to the latest Ministry gossip. Draco and Hermione were gone to the world, deep in conversation about recent research—some bloke who claimed to have discovered the thirteenth use of dragon blood. Ginny gave her insight to the Quidditch season so far, and almost everyone around the table listened intently.

When it was almost 9 o'clock, George and Angelica got up, saying it was time they got home to put the children to bed. Both Roxanne and Fred whined in complaint, claiming that they were not tired. Their yawns gave them away, though.

Ron smiled. “I think it's time we got our own kids to bed as well.” Hugo was asleep on Molly's lap, and Rose was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

After that, their guest slowly began to leave. George and his family were the first ones to leave, followed by his parents, after which Ron got Hugo and Rose to bed. Charlie, Harry and Draco, and Ginny and Millie stayed for a glass of wine, before they also had to leave.

Ginny and Millie were the last ones to leave. Ron and Hermione waved them off before they disappeared through the Floo.

  


  


All in all, the dinner was a success, in Ron's opinion. Hermione had whole-heartedly agreed to let Molly host next year, though.

When they were lying in bed that night, Ron asked, “Why _did_ you decide you wanted to host this year?”

Hermione put away the book she'd been reading. She sighed. “It's stupid,” she said.

“I'm sure it's not.” When she didn't say anything, he added, “You don't have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know that.”

“I'll tell you,” she sighed. “I just felt like—I don't know. I've always been a terrible cook, and everyone's always laughing, and I wanted to prove them wrong. I thought that if I did the Christmas dinner, it would show everyone that I _can_ make food.” She looked up at him with a small smile. “I'm not used to failing.”

“It's not stupid,” Ron said. He paused. “Well, it's sort of stupid.” Hermione gave him a light smack on the arm, and he laughed.

“But I get it. It's okay. We all got things we excel at, and things we're no so great at," Ron said. "You're amazing, Hermione, but you're probably never going to excel in the kitchen. And that's okay.”

Hermione closed her eyes. “I know.” When she looked up again, she was smiling. Ron found himself marvelling, not for the first time, at how beautiful she was when she smiled. “Thank you, Ron.”

“Always,” he said. He scooped over to put and arm around her. She leaned into his side with a content sigh.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Ron asked.

“You might have, once or twice,” she said, and he could feel her smile against his chest.

“I love you, too.”

  


  


_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And that there aren't too many typos. I wrote this a couple of days ago, and I wanted to post before the new year, so I might have missed something.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment! I always love to hear what you think :)  
> Merry Christmas, happy holidays!


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